


Kippers and Jam

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [29]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Dog-Monkey-Detective, Fluff and Crack, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, Waitrose, jealous alpha, naughty omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing?" The little girl studied the strange man with interest.</p><p>"I'm keeping an eye on John."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kippers and Jam

"You said your back hurts," Sherlock objected.

"It does, but I think a little exercise would be good. It's just a bit of shopping,"

John was moving about the bedroom as he spoke, clumsily pulling on the clothes still fit well enough to qualify as publicly decent. He was enormously overdue, swollen and flushed. The rest of his body was soft and plump; his scent permeated everything. It was making Sherlock high and happy, but he was also feeling uneasy.

Sherlock looked out anxiously from under the duvet. John's frequent insistence on leaving their home was driving him mad; they'd been lying together, perfectly content until a moment ago. Now he was trying to argue his naughty omega into a docile behaviour John seemed incapable of.

"Come back to bed," he said.

"I've had enough lying about,"

"You ought to stay in. You're too big now,"

John just waved at the notion in vague dismissal.

"You've been saying that for ages," he said.

"Come here, I'll make you go into labour-"

"We've had enough sex this morning to exhaust a pro, love. In fact, you're getting barmy from it. Moving around will help me. A bit of air will do me some good,"

Sherlock licked his lips.

"I - I'll go for you! You stay here!" He declared in sudden desperation. He lept up and began to rapidly pull his own clothes on. His motions were quick and panicky, opposite to John's slow and heavy ones.

John laughed, bemused.

"Normally I'd jump at that offer,"  He said, "but that's not the point of...oi!" John was forced to step back as Sherlock dashed past him. He ran out the bedroom door and thundered down the stairs.

"I'm coming with you!" he shouted up to John from the foyer.

+++

Waitrose was busy, because the Waitrose John liked was always busy. Navigating the crowded shop was more challenging than usual given John's extreme state. He wheeled the trolley carefully through each aisle, waddling slowly, happily oblivious to the other shoppers' stares.

Sherlock followed closely behind, practically pressing himself into John. He bared his teeth as they passed people and rudely deduced them at top volume.

"Do drink lots of water when you binge eat that salami home alone...Your date will be able to tell the difference between those and the organic carrots and know you're cheap ...Mmm, interesting choice of beverage given your chronic halitosis ...It's a full blown UTI, you'll need more than that yoghurt ...Mini Scotch eggs? Not going to help with the impotence nor the gout, is it?" He growled.

"Sherlock, if you're feeling agitated-"

"They're all looking at you, John. I don't like it," Sherlock growled. He grabbed John from behind, hugging him possessively.

"Well they might also be looking at the big, hostile alpha hanging all over me and insulting everyone." John managed to get out.

"No,"

John sighed.

"Why don't you take half the list?" He suggested, "Then we'll be finished sooner... " He ripped the piece of paper he'd brought in two, "...and can leave..." he muttered. With no small effort he wriggled free and handed it to Sherlock, who snorted contemptuously at it.

"I have a photographic memory,"

"Your brain is also very much in alpha mode right now, love," John said. Sherlock's eyes were glassy and wild, his expression loopy.

"There are only five things here," Sherlock said.

"So go get 'em, and meet me up at the till, yeah?"

"What is a short bread?"

John looked at Sherlock, gobsmacked.

"Why would you delete shortbread?" He asked after a moment.

Sherlock shrugged.

"It must be dull,"

John swapped the papers they held.

"You've eaten all the strawberries already?"

"Just - just get the stuff on the list!" Cried John, blushing.

+++

"What are you doing?" The little girl studied the strange man with interest.

"I'm keeping an eye on John," The answer came without his looking at her. He pushed aside a selection of jams, completely focused on his task.

"Can I keep an eye on him too?"

"If you like," Now the strange man was crouching rather low, hiding behind a display of digestives. "How are you enjoying your first visit to London?" He asked offhandedly.

"It's lovely, I've been to some museums, and tonight Gram will take me to-"

"The theatre, to see _Once,_ "

"Yes. Is that him?"

"Yes, him. He's mine,"

"Is he going to have a baby?"

"Yes. Several. Mine," Said the man proudly.

John turned down an aisle and the two of them ducked down the one parallel to him.

"You're not supposed to climb on shelves," Said the girl, but the man was already scrambling up, knocking things down.

+++

"Mrs. Roache! What a nice surprise!" John stopped, his hands instinctively sliding around to his lower back for support.

"John dear! I was just thinking of you, we hadn't heard any news! We were wondering when your due date was..." The old woman looked at John and his too-large stomach with a strange mix of fondness and vague disapproval.

"Nearly two weeks ago now,"

Mrs. Roache's mouth opened in surprise.

"Oh my. John! You poor thing!"

"I'm okay. Just - you know, waiting. How's your sister?"

"Martha's doing quite well, thank you dear. She misses you two, it would be wonderful to have a visit when convenient,"

"We'd love that. I haven't seen her in ages!"

"...and your alpha? Where is he?"

"Oh, he's-" but John's words were cut off by Mrs. Roache's scream as she looked on high to meet Sherlock's crazed expression from amongst the teas.

"Sherlock!" John scolded, "Are you just following me round?"

"I'm getting your PG Tips," Sherlock explained.

"Hi Gram!"

"Zoe, get down from there!" Gasped Mrs. Roache in great embarrassment.

"Sherlock, please, you're setting quite a bad example,"

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but it quickly transitioned into an animal snarl. In one fast motion, he'd launched himself over the shelving and landed behind John with a low growl. In the process he managed to shower them with boxes of tea and upturn an entire endcap of satsuma.

"Christ! You're knocking shit everywher-"

John stopped in surprise. Sherlock was standing between himself and a familiar figure.

“Hi guys,” said Mary uncertainly.

“Mary- hi -um-” John swayed to the left and the right, trying to see her.

Sherlock moved in time blocking them, a belligerent look on his face.

“We don’t want you,” Sherlock growled at her.

“Okaaaay. Well, I see someone’s tripping deep in the alpha today…” Mary began to walk away slowly but calmly, as if leaving the territory of a big animal she didn’t want to encourage.

"Maybe catch you two later, yeah?" She said vaguely.

"No," Sherlock answered flatly.

“Sorry-” said John as she moved off, “nice to see you…”

“It isn’t, either," Barked Sherlock curtly.

“Sherlock! You’re so rude!” John said.

“Hello Mrs. Roache, how are you. Please tell Mrs. Hudson to try chickpea flour in place of wheat to lower her glycemic levels,” Sherlock said in his most charming manner.

Mrs Roache smiled, recovered from her fright.

“You’re so clever!” she said, “I will do that,”

“I apologise if I gave you a start,”

“Well that’s alright. It’s all over now, isn’t it,”

Sherlock turned to John and beamed triumphantly.

“No one’s coming near you now!" he said.

“I wonder why,” John moaned.

“Let’s go home, John. This is dull, and I want to make you sit on my -”

“Bye now!” Said John loudly. He grabbed Sherlock’s hand and began to lead him away. Zoe and Mrs. Roache waved.

“Kippers. You’ve forgotten the kippers,” Sherlock suddenly said.

"What? Now? Now you care about-"

“Mr. Watson!”

They’d turned the corner and nearly collided with the manager. He was a small fellow with a pointy nose and large, hairy ears. His pale skin flushed easily when agitated; at the moment he was quite pink.

“Oh, um, hello Barry," John said sheepishly. Barry crossed his arms and did his best to seem authoritative. He looked like an angry sunburnt mouse.

“I’m terribly sorry but you’ll have to leave now, Mr Watson," He said.

“No,” Said Sherlock, "we need kippers. Also, John is a _doctor,_ "

Barry blinked rapidly.

“I - Doctor Watson, I shouldn't like to be unpleasant. I’ve said as much in the past… We value your business, but the truth is destruction of merchandise and molesting the other patrons is simply too much,"

"Molesting!" Cried John.

"Yes, molesting. In the truest sense of the word: you've been harassing, insulting, and physically combative with the other patrons," his nose twitched." For months," he added.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating just a bit, mate? I -Sherlock! Bloody hell!" John shouted, for Sherlock had chosen to climb and vault over yet another shelf into the next aisle.

He and Barry stared in disbelief at the mess.

"I'm terribly sorry but you really must go,"

+++

"Slow down, you maniac!" John huffed twenty minutes later. He was trying to keep up with Sherlock who suddenly seemed to possess boundless energy, and had raced down the street. Sherlock bounced his way back to John. The strange grin of euphoria he wore when at the mercy to his alpha side was plastered across his face.

"John! John!" Sherlock said affectionately. He buried his face in John's shoulder and inhaled loudly. He made a strange blustreing noise, then sneezed with a flamboyant shake of his head.

"Maybe we should get in a taxi," said John with a worried look, "you seem to be getting worse,"

Sherlock looked back at John happily. Without warning, he grabbed the sides of John's face. In the next moment, his tongue flashed out, and John found his himself being kissed enthusiastically on the high street.

"Ah! Um- Yeah, we should definitely get - ah!  Ah-hehm! Home as soon as possi- mmmph!"  John declared. Sherlock gave a low hum of approval at the idea. He stared John in the face, his pale eyes intense, present and fixated, but also alarmingly, utterly animal.

"Sherlock? Are you... okay?" John asked.

Sherlock only smiled more. The loving, dopey look abruptly transformed into a fearsome grimace at something behind John.

"What-" Before he'd finished turning, John was nearly knocked over by Sherlock who barreled past him with a terrible sound.

A man stood at the end of the block, his body language caught between action and fear.

He remained stock still up until the moment it was inevitable that Sherlock would jump on him. With a little shriek of terror, the man suddenly decided to turn and run.

"Sherlock! Stop! Stop!" John shouted, but it was far too little, far too late.

"Mine!!!" Shouted Sherlock as he tackled the terrified man, "JOHN IS MINE!!!!"

"Oh dear! Oh no! I- oh! Ow!"

"Sherlock!" John shouted, "get off our postman!"

Sherlock looked up at the sound of John's voice and beamed happily at him.

"Sorry Mr. Davis," John called, "We're both a little off today,"

"That's alright John," the postman said in a muffled voice,"understand completely, my wife was just like this right before we had our Adelaide...oof!" His sentiment was cut short as Sherlock pushed his head against the ground.

"Don't look at him," Sherlock demanded, "he's _mine_ ,"

"Sherlock! Get off him! He's not interested in me..."

"He finds you attractive," growled Sherlock, "it's obvious,"

"For fuck's sake, he's an omega! He's even got a mate!"

"Nevertheless he's always clean shaven and often wearing a new item of clothing when he comes round. The time he arrives makes no sense given the layout of his route - implying he saves our flat for last, in order to chat you up. He's also secretly a member of a kinky swingers group, one which specialises in omega-binding, which is evident from the way he moves his-"

"Look, I'm getting into this minicab, so you'd better get over here!"  John had flagged down the black car and now opened the door.

Sherlock sat bolt upright then dashed into the minicab as John stood back.

"Goodbye, Mr. Davis, and again, my apologies," John called. Sherlock looked out the rear window and gave a short, barking laugh.

"That's the last we'll see of him," he said.

"That's unfortunate, he _is_ the one who brings in all our mail,” John lamented.

Sherlock did not bother to answer, instead he began to kiss John again.

+++

"Well, that was pointless," said John. It was only minutes later and he'd settled into Sherlock's chair with a heavy exhale. Sherlock knelt on the floor in front of him, excited and glassy-eyed.

"You said you wanted air," he said. He pushed himself between John's spread legs and nosed up against the swell of his enormous belly. He inhaled deeply, the sound ending in a little growl of approval.

"Yeah, but food would have been nice, too," John complained. His eyes widened as Sherlock reached into the pockets of his coat.

"When did you- bloody hell!" John cried. Sherlock beamed triumphantly as he handed the goods over to John.

"So you're a shoplifter now, I see," John grumbled. He looked at the tinned fish and jar of preserves quizzically.

"Strawberry... " He mused.

"and salty, briny stuff," said Sherlock.

"... just what I was craving," John marvelled, "brilliant,"

"I'd loot the whole bloody store for you," rumbled Sherlock proudly.

He wrapped his arms around John's immense middle and hummed contentedly.

"I suppose they can just add it to the damages,"  John sighed. He grunted in pleasure; Sherlock's head was suddenly under the maternity shirt he wore, and the sensation of eager lips met his overly sensitive, swollen flesh.

"You're mine... All mine..." the voice was loving and determined, and utterly alpha.

"Yeah, love," gasped John, "Yeah... Mmmm... yours...always yours... mmfff... now and forever..."

The food slipped from his fingers, forgotten and replaced by a building sense of joy.

**Author's Note:**

> The time I literally wrote Sherlock as a dog.  
> ... slash monkey.  
> Dog-Monkey-Detective


End file.
